The Inevitable Fight
by PrimaImperatrix
Summary: "He was not always able to so cunningly evade her knowing eyes, distracting her with banter and kisses. The times she caught him were the worst, yet again leading to the inevitable fight." The History of Fred and Hermione's relationship, post BoH in which Fred lived, and told in a series of memory one shots over the course of a fight.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Dedicated to my beloved Nerissa, from your Big Sis.

* * *

><p>The word seemed to radiate on her arm, a magnetic pull on his eyes.<p>

_Mudblood._

No matter how many times his eyes passed over the fine white lines, or how many delicate grazes of his fingertips passed over, the anger never waned. It was always lying dormant in the back of his mind, waiting to be conjured. It never took much—the errant push of a sleeve, the brush of her arm across his, an absent stretch as she rose out of bed. It triggered suddenly and without warning, pulling him from the moment with her and blinding his mind to any emotion except wrath.

It would happen simple enough- Hermione would be putting a mug away in the cupboard, exasperated by some Hogwarts related frustration or another. The light would ignite her hair as she passed by the window reaching for another mug from the dish rack. That little crease of fervent determination would appear on her furrowed brow, venting in animated fashion about the obstacles in her latest crusade. Fred would be leaning against the counter, failing to stifle a smile as he sipped his cooling tea. Pausing, he would take a small delight in the wonder that was his wife, and all the quirks he adored about her, when her reaching arm would expose the bitter reminder of their long year apart.

Rage would consume him, diverting his mind to the malevolent plans he had drawn up for every Deatheater that had stood idly by, watching, enjoying, while Bellatrix had carved the accursed slur into her forearm. Then he would smile softly at the thought of his mother ending that bitch.

"Honestly, Frederick," Hermione would chastise in mock indignation. "I apologize that my vexation with the ministries relaxing educational standards pale to the urgent demand for Puking Pastilles."

"As you should be," he would jibe, letting his dark plans fade from his mind. "Puking Pastilles are a national commodity. You should be thanking your lucky stars your husband is keeping the economy afloat while you lot at Hogwarts are…" he would smirk, straight faced as he feigned ignorance, "I'm sorry, love... remind me again exactly what you lot do there?"

A dramatic eye roll would be her only response, and a swat against the back of his fiery head. She might pretend to be agitated, but she rarely ever was. He would catch her arm with his free hand as she walked away, laughing under her breath, slingshotting her back against him and enclosing her in an embrace.

"Well, if you don't release me, I'm going to be late for whatever it is I do."

"Glorified babysitter."

"Dropout."

Then their lips would find more gainful employment than trading retorts.

But, he was not always able to so cunningly evade her knowing eyes, distracting her with banter and kisses. The times she caught him were the worst, yet again leading to the inevitable _fight_.


	2. Chapter 2

The light of flickering candles cast dancing shadows across her face. Gingerly gliding his fingers over her ribs, moving upwards over her arms, he seized them at the wrists, pressing them back against the pillows. Trailing kisses across her clavicle, her neck, her shoulders…

Out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed it, illuminated just enough to stand out against her skin. Hesitating, his eyes lingered too long, drawing his attention away, and eventually hers.

"Fred," she would whisper. "Look at me."

The madness was already swirling in the depths of his blue eyes. Breaking from his grasp, she rolled out of his embrace to reach for her tank top.

"Hermione…" he sighed, but she ignored his pleading.

Murmuring the spell to extinguish the candles, she slid into a seated position, moving to lean her back against the headboard, and flip on the bedside light.

"You are never going to let this go, are you?" She asked, pulling her knees to her chest, concealing the scar by hugging her legs tight.

"Could you, if it was the other way around?" He sat up, redirecting his anger at her rather than phantom Deatheaters. "Every time we have this conversation, you conveniently forget how paranoid you were the year after I nearly died. You even told me that the minute you saw him raise the wand, you knew it would be the end of me. If you hadn't been wearing your Time Turner—"

"—I wouldn't be sitting here with you. Fred, trust me when I say I am perfectly aware of what I almost lost," she spat bitterly, as if she needed the reminder.

**oOoOoOoOo**

The acrid scent of Fiendfyre still burned in her nostrils as Hermione gained her bearings. The Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw had just disintegrated in Harry's hands, a black residue spilling from it like some primordial ooze. As it secreted, a fierce, high pitch shriek rent the air, and she knew.

"Don't you realize? This means if we can just get the snake—"

The echo of a familiar, comforting laugh hit her ears—a laugh she missed dreadfully, seldom heard over the last year, transported only by radio wave.

"Fred?" she whispered almost inaudibly, barely able to find her voice or her breath.

Frantic feet brought her closer to the voice she needed so desperately to hear, the face she needed to see, the hand she needed to hold, and the lips she needed to kiss. Two ginger haired brothers came backing into the corridor, slinging jinxes and hexes at the approaching Deatheaters who had apparently breached the castle.

Just feet away, after a long, turbulent year apart. There had never been a heartfelt goodbye or romantic, grandiose last kiss—just a narrow escape by the skin of her teeth that was just the beginning of a year of narrow escapes and near death experiences.

Joining the fray, Hermione sent a slew of defensive spells at the Deatheaters. Her last jinx missed as her target deflected it, responding by raising his wand toward the ceiling above Fred and Percy's heads, unbeknownst to the ginger wizards.

"No!" she gasp, fear and rage coalescing in her chest.

"Hello, Minister! Did I mention I'm resigning?"

"You're joking, Perce! You're actually are joking… I don't think I've heard you joke since you were –"

"Protego Duo!" echoed through the hall cast by a familiar, yet disembodied voice.

The air exploded, casting bodies asunder through the clouding air, but even through the reverberating deafness that rang in the wake of the explosion, she was sure she had heard her own voice just before the blast. Lifting her head, Hermione blinked her smoke stung eyes, drawing it up in dread, panicked and searching for Fred who she thought surely had been crushed in the collapse.

To her astonishment, Hermione saw herself thrown over Fred's prone body, wand thrust into the air holding the shield charm as the remaining rubble cascaded down.

"Her-Hermione?" Fred stuttered barely above a whisper, then snapped a double take at the second Hermione fast-approaching. "Hermiones!?" He broke into an incredulous laugh. "It's a month late, but it looks like I got my birthday wish after all." To which, he winked seductively, flashing that rogue's grin that made her positively melt.

"Quick," her duplicate announced, tugging at her own Time Turner dangling from her neck, "a quarterturn ought to do it."

The duplicate threw her head back in the direction of the dark hall from which she had just emerged, indicating for Hermione to take her place and wait. Nodding her understanding, Hermione broke towards the dark corridor, escaping being seen by the others just as they began to rise.

Rounding the corner, she slid, losing her footing and skidding across the floor on gravelly rubble from a fallen archway. Crashing against the wall, fighting to not collapse from the pain of the impact coupled with her mounting exhaustion, she gripped her wand fiercely searching for the strength to continue.

But, in her heart, as well as her racing mind, she knew there was only one reason she would risk coming back to the past. _Fred will die_, she whispered, giving herself the needed strength to endure. A slight turn to the Time Turner sent the world reversing around her nearly fifteen minutes.

The pounding in her ears was drowning out the screams and concussions rebounding around her. Flashes of green and blue across the decorative stone blinded her in bursts, leaving their temporary negative imprints on her vision. Through the ruins of the archway, she saw the sole purpose for her trip: Fred was charging backwards down the hall crossing the corridor, pursued along with Percy by the Deatheaters.

The minute she heard Percy mocking Pius Thickneese she pushed off the wall, using it to gain the momentum she might not have otherwise conjured. As she heard the cracking of the stone above her, she sprinted from the darkness, catching Fred's eyes a split second before the ceiling came crashing down.

"Protego Duo!" she bellowed as she dove, thrusting her wand towards the free falling debris, closing her arms around Fred in a death grip embrace.

Through the settling dust, she locked eyes with her next doppleganger while Fred made lewd suggestions about what he might do with two Hermiones. _Twins, honestly_, she huffed, rolling her eyes as the next Hermione dashed towards the dark corridor to keep the cycle of time circling, ensuring Fred survived the explosion.

As she watched herself slip into the darkness, she felt his palm reach up and brush her cheek. Her eyes darted from her retreating figure to a set of blue ones, swimming with love and relief.

"I knew I would see you again. The only lesson you could never learn was when to give up."

"Fred? Hermione? Are you alright?" Harry shouted as he and Percy came scrambling from where they had been thrown.

"Never better, Potter!" Fred exclaimed as a giant smile split his lips, drawing himself up and helping Hermione to her feet, taking her hand in his. "But, you lot have stunning heroics to do. Go. End this for us."

Hermione squeezed his hand, closing her eyes, not ready to depart so quickly after just being reunited, after saving his life. But, she knew he was right.

"Potter might be the _Chosen One_, but he's rubbish without the _Brightest Witch of Her Age_," Fred added, forcing her to smile. Chucking her on the jaw, he added, "That's my girl. Now go…" Fred took Hermione's face into his dusted hands, bringing her lips to meet his. "But, not without a proper goodbye this time."

"Be more careful next time," she smirked. "I've more pressing matters to attend to than saving your reckless arse."

He winked, and bopped her nose before grabbing Percy by the arm, and dashing away to slay more death eaters.

Turning to face Harry and Ron, she was met with shocked expressions. That's when she remembered that, save for George, no one knew about her and Fred.

Ron just stood there looking horrified.

"Explain?" Harry asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"No time," she huffed, grabbing them by their sleeves to get them moving, "We have to find the snake."


	3. Chapter 3

"Do you remember how powerless you felt when you saw that debris raining down? Well, that is how I feel every time I see that brand on your arm."

"I knew that I didn't let go of the past, it would consume me." She leaned forward, placing her hand against his cheek. "The war is over- I can rest at night knowing everyone I love is safe. When I finally realized that, I allowed myself to forget. Maybe, you should too."

"Oh really, you've forgotten? How many nights have you woken, screaming until I took you in my arms and convinced you I was alive," he scoffed. "One night you drew your wand on me, convinced I was Barty Crouch disguised with Polyjuice Potion."

Hermione fought a smile at the memory.

"You're never going to let that go either, are you?"

"Not a chance, love." He flashed that devilish, signature grin, taking the offending arm in his large hands, letting the smile drop and the pain in his eyes tell another story. "Nor will I ever learn to live with the idea that I could have prevented this."

Tugging her arm, she tried to pull out of his hold, but he held it firmly, brushing his lips across the scar reverently.

"It is a constant reminder of my absence when you needed me."

**oOoOoOoOo**

Snow was fluttering to the ground, and Hermione sat with her book open against her crossed legs. She forced herself to read the same passage for the fourth time, her mind wandering, too unfocused to process and retain the information presented on the page. She huffed and slammed the book shut, wincing when she remembered Harry had called it an early night.

She needed a break, a distraction. The burden of this journey had been rough enough when there had been three of them, but now that Ron had abandoned them, she felt even more weight on her shoulders. It always felt like it was up to her to solve every problem, to fix every mistake, to answer every question. In her weaker moments, when the poison of the locket was pervading her mind, she had even felt that Harry was not worth his salt being the so-called _Chosen One_.

That was just stress, and she knew it. All she wanted was a distraction—to be able to let her guard down for a few minutes without fearing the world would come crashing down because of it. But, her brain was useless under all this duress. She had to permit herself a break, if just for a minute or she was never going to get through this book.

"Accio wireless", she whispered, conjuring the radio to come to her side.

Setting it next to her in the open tent entrance, she tapped the wireless with her wand and spoke the password. Closing her eyes, nerves settling as Fred's voice came through in the latest broadcast of _Potterwatch_.

* * *

><p>His head had just hit the pillow, but he did not kid himself that he would find any respite in sleep. The nights he did not wake up drenched in sweat, vivid dreams still burning in his mind's eye- haunted by images of what Voldemort would do if he ever found them, of what he would do to a Muggle-born—those night were few and far between.<p>

Worry clenched his heart, constricting his chest. Was she listening? Did his voice bring her comfort? Did she know he was doing all of this for her?

This, he reasoned, was the only way he could help her, whether she wanted his help or not. Dumbledore had entrusted them to do something, that much he had gathered, but the fact that Dumbledore had counted on his prat of a brother to do something so incredibly important and heroic as to help bring down the Dark Lord, about that, he was bitter.

The anger of seeing Ron at Shell Cottage was still fresh in his mind.

"What do you mean you _just left_?" Fred growled.

"It was too much—I couldn't handle it anymore…"

"Coward!" Fred exploded, taking Ron to the floor. How could he have just abandoned them like that?

George dragged Fred away by the shoulders, his feet scrambling against the floor as he fought for freedom from George's grasp. Bill and Fleur moved to help Ron from the ground.

"Where are they?" Fred demanded, hoping if he knew he could find her himself, take up the duty that Ron had seen so fit to neglect.

"I… I don't know," Ron stuttered, still on the floor, half propped on and arm, horrified at his brother's outburst. "Hermione always had the tent well protected. I tried to go back, but I couldn't find it because of her spells."

That was his girl. Blimey, she was better off without him mucking everything up anyway. Fred had not spoken to Ron since that night. But, the night terrors had become worse after that.

A white light danced into his bedroom, taking the shape of a swimming otter. Illuminating the darkness around him, it performed twists and rolls, circling him as he sat up in bed. It carried her scent, bringing a long desired comfort to him.

_You are what gets me through each day, Fred. Thank you for understanding why it had to be this way, and for all the help you and the others have given to Harry and me. Keep fighting for us, and I will too. _

In his heart, he knew that _us_ didn't mean her and Harry—it meant fighting this war, fighting for an end when they could finally be together.

_Wear this, and I will be able to find your love and strength when I need you to carry me through._

The patronous dove in front of him, spinning in a circle, shrinking into a point and disappearing completely. But, when it vanished, something with a bit of heft dropped into his lap.

Fred grabbed his wand and whispered, "Lumos."

A silvery chain glinted against the patchwork blanket covering his legs. Drawing it up into the light, he could see a pendant dangling at the end of the chain: a silver otter, in mid-twist, swimming playfully. Fred clasped it in his palm, and drew it to his heart, before dropping it over his head and around his neck. He might be separated from her, painfully unable to help her through more than words over airwaves, but at least he could carry her for a little bit when she needed him.

**oOoOoOoOo**

It struck him like a pulse, and he bent over the shop counter to brace himself.

"What is it, Freddie?" George asked, fear and confusion in his tone.

"It's.. it's..." he stammered, only processing pain and anguish. "...Hermione."

Bending his elbows to support his weight, he grasped his head, groaning.

"I think she's..." His eyes were filled with fire when they met his twin's, and George's eyes went wide with panic. "She's being tortured, George!"

Reaching for his wand, George stayed his hand, "Are you daft? You don't even know who has her, or where to find her!"

Fred buckled again, his knees wavering, and slid to rest his head against the counter ledge.

"I have to do something!" he bellowed. "I have to... I have to stop it. I have to help her."

Fred felt George's hand press against his heaving chest.

"Then remind her what she has to live for."


	4. Chapter 4

**oOoOoOoOo**

"You weren't absent! You were always with me when I needed you. That was the very strength I drew from when Bellatrix carved those words in my arm, what I focused on so I did not break." She was straining not to shout. "I would have done anything to have you there with me—to set your brother straight, to keep Harry laughing when he slipped into depression, to keep me together every time I was about to fall apart, but Dumbledore entrusted the three of us to do it alone. Dragging you along would have been one more burden for me, and I just could not afford to be distracted by your safety."

**oOoOoOoOo**

The tent was quickly filling with relatives and friends, both Weasley and Delacour alike. Fred, George, Ron, and a disguised Harry took their turns dutifully escorting wedding attendants to their designated seats.

As he stood aside, extending his hand to indicate the chairs this collection of old codgers needed to take, his forced, fake smile turned into one of genuine pleasure. The flash of lilac had stolen his attention when she swept into the tent. The tendrils of lilac fabric seemed to float as she sashayed in, created an ethereal quality to her movements. The lilac delicately complimented her ivory skin, and accentuated the deep brown of her sleekly styled hair, the earthy color of her eyes, even the faint freckles dappling her nose and cheeks.

Fred stifled a moan, letting it escaped as an exhale. _Merlin…_

"Stop gawking, Freddie," his brother nudged him shoulder to shoulder, smiling. "It's unbecoming of ladies men of our caliber. How am I going to woo one of the Veela cousins if they see my dopey, lovesick brother making eyes like a first year."

"Georgie, between you and me," he smirked, " the Veelas have nothing on this girl."

He smacked his brother on his back, and made his way to a conversing Hermione.

"… Oh, Dear, is this the Muggle-born?" she was saying as the pair approached. "Bad posture and skinny ankles."

Aunt Muriel's comments, obviously. He hoped the old bat choked on a bit of cake tonight, putting everyone out of her misery.

"All that stooping over books will do that," Fred teased, feigning severity. "See, over education has ruined you forever, Granger. Who will love you now?"

Then he winked when no one was looking. Hermione just pushed at him in the chest and bit back a smile.

"Don't take it personally, Hermione. She just told me that my ears are lopsided," George laughed, his demeanor taking on a wistful quality. "I just wish Uncle Bilius was still with us—he was a right laugh at weddings."

"Isn't he the one who saw a Grim, and died twenty-four hours laters?"

"Well, yeah, he went a bit odd toward the end," conceded George.

"But, before he went loopy he was the life and soul of the party," Fred added. "He used to down a whole bottle of firewhiskey, then run onto the dance floor, hoist up his robes, and start pulling flowers out of his—"

Watching her laugh was his favorite thing in the world. He could remember all those years back, when they first were getting to know each other better, and how he was pleasantly surprised to discover just how witty she was under all that pretense of seriousness and responsibility. He could still envision how she looked the first time he managed to make her laugh so hard she threw her head back, brown curls bouncing, unable to breath, clutching her side.

In that moment, Fred felt a personal duty to make her laugh like that whenever possible, for the rest of her life.

"Sounds like an absolute charmer," Hermione replied, darting her eyes toward Fred. "Now I see where you get it."

The sound of laughter drowned out the approach of dark haired young man who entered the tent, shoving his invitation at Ron and taking in all of Hermione.

"You look vunderful."

"Viktor!" She exclaimed, clearly astonished to see him, and dropping her beaded hand bag in surprise.

The sound it made as it hit the ground was suspiciously disproportionate to its small size, yet Fred was the only one to notice. Bending down to retrieve the bag, he used the distraction of Krum to unlatch the clasp and peer inside.

Books, medicine, food, even the tent his father had used at the Quidditch World Cup. She couldn't be thinking… look who he was talking about. Of course she was. For being the brightest witch of her age, sometimes, she was a right proper idiot.

Standing, Hermione's eyes met his, a blush on her cheeks as she expected his ire from her interaction with Krum. Taking grasp of her wrist, he pulled her away to talk privately outside the tent.

"Jealous, really? Honestly, Frederick, I would hope at this point you would realize…" She sighed misconstruing the hurt on his face with envy, until her cut her off.

"Planning a holiday, are you?" He asked, opening the bag to expose the contents.

Hermione's eyes went wide, her mouth slightly ajar, but she countered quickly.

"It's nothing," she brushed it off, always terrible at lying to him. "Just a bag… in case of emergency"

"And, were you planning on including me in your plans?"

"Fred—"

"Stop lying, Hermione. You can't fool a professional fool," his tone eased a bit, "Were you going to run?"

"It's not that simple, Fred!" she spat through gritted teeth, eyes flashing, moving about looking for bystanders who might overhear.

"Then, elaborate," he pleaded, dropping his head to meet her eyes, his hand to the small of her back to pull her closer to him.

"I can't. I would love to, more than anything," she expressed solemnly, taking his face into her hands, eyes conveying the depth of her worry. "But, I made a promise. One I intend on keeping, which that means walking away from the only thing I want in this world, second only to stopping You-Know-Who."

"Is that what—"

He began to ask, but Hermione cut him of his a deep, but short lived kiss. Pulling away as Fleur's voice could be heard, she broke from his hold, and refused to meet his eyes as they lined up to take their places in the procession.

Fred swallowed his ire hard, forcing his smile again despite his true emotions at the present. He had to keep reminding himself that this moment was not about him and Hermione, it was about Bill and Fleur. It was about normalcy in a time of chaos and intrigue and fear. Right now, he was going to back off from the topic. He could always talk to Hermione after the wedding. If he could just talk to her, he knew she would see sense—she was too rational not too. It was not as if she was going to be leaving any time soon.

They took their seats in the first two rows, and a train of family members followed—Charlie and Bill, Ginny and Gabrielle, and finally Fleur linked in the arm of her father.

The look on Bill's face as Fleur came gliding down the aisle, the glow and the swell of emotion blooming inside him—Fred knew that feeling. He felt it every time he met the eyes of the witch seated directly behind him. Every flustered argument he witnessed, every know-it-all smirk she flashed whenever she was right, the determination in every cast of her wand… her bravery, her wit, and most of all, that infectious, glorious laugh that only he could seem to pull out of her.

He loved Hermione Granger.

"Do you, William Arthur, take Fleur Isabelle…?"

As the presiding wizard began, Fred discretely slipped his arm through the gap in the chairs. Reaching behind, he felt the smooth skin of one of her legs crossed over the other, trailing his finger down the length of her calf. He felt her start excitedly at his touch, and he pursed his lips, fighting a mischievous smile, quite proud of himself. Upturning his hand and opening it in an offering towards her, he breathed a sigh of relief when he felt her own hand slip into his.

"… then I declare you bonded for life."

Fred gave her hand secure squeeze, turning slightly to catch her smile and her tear rimmed eyes, just before releasing her hand so that he and George could lead a round of applause for the happy couple.

For all the beauty the ceremony had been, the reception was just the release that everyone needed. No one more than Hermione, and Fred knew that. If there was something she felt compelled to do, a promise she had made, he knew it would have only been to Dumbledore. He knew that he could not stand in her way- she would not stand for it. But, he also had no intention of letting her go about some mission to stop Voldemort by herself.

Right now thought, with her spinning delightfully in his arms, brown locks and lilac tendrils flying as she came back against him, he was content just to be the bit of levity she needed. There was no other girl in the wizarding world, sans his little sister of course, he had absolute confidence in to take care of herself. A Hermione spurned was a force to be recknoned with—he had heard stories from Ron from his sixth year, and he knew that she was taking her anger over Fred's departure from Hogwarts out on the closest Weasley available. But, he had also witnessed it himself on the occasions she had been emboldened enough to stand up to Umbridge. It was that fire burning within, just simmering under the surface that had captivated him during DA. Her unabashed confidence, even when it was a pretense, was the most attractive quality she possessed.

"It feels like a troll has smashed both of my feet," she mumbled, forehead to his chest, breathless. "I need a rest, or I shall be useless for the rest of the night."

"I suppose this is where I pretend to be a gentleman, and retrieve you something to drink?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Don't worry, Fred. In my heart, I'll know it was a ruse the whole time," she promised, tapping his cheek gently as she turned to take a seat next to Harry.

Lifting two chilled butterbeers from the table, Fred's head jerked towards the white flash that had erupted in the center of the tent.

_The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are on their way._ Shaklebolt's voice boomed from his patronous.

The butterbeers fell from Fred's hands, glass shattering at his feet, and he felt the lurch in his stomach as the words registered. Where was Hermione? He had to find her before she did something incredibly daft. He had to make her see reason. He had to stop her from leaving him behind.

Guests scattered pell-mell, fleeing in all directions. From across the dance floor, now covered in moving bodies, he heard her shouting for Ron. Ron, and not him. He bolted towards her, fighting his way through the sea of panicked guests, but the tide was too strong. Hooded figures apparated out of no-where. Screams were drowning out his thought processes. Their eyes met over the top of the crowd. Her face was that of firm resolve, clutching Potter and his git of a brother, and the beaded bag in her hands.

"Hermione!" he shouted, eyes pleading, fiercely scrambling, throwing people out of the way. "NO! Wait! Let me—"

_I love you_, was all she mouthed just before the trio twisted away into the ether.

By the time Fred reached the spot she was standing, there was nothing but an empty space.

"Fred! Get it together!" George shouted.

"I lost her," his voice was weak.

"You haven't lost her yet you git, but she might lose you if you don't c'mon!" George grabbed a hold of his brother's robe, choking him for the split second they twisted through time and space.

Landing roughly on the floor of their flat above the shop, Fred slammed his fist on the floor, fighting the tears burning his eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione could not hold back the tears any longer, and she slid off the bed, darting into the bathroom. The door closed in Fred's face before he could catch her. Leaning his forehead against the dark wooden door, he could hear her sobs echoing off the ceramic walls. Jiggling the handle, it would not give. He could _alohamora_ it easily, but he knew better when she got like this. Ever since the Battle, she had made a habit of hiding her tears.

"You don't have to hide, 'Mione. There is no shame in crying, ever. Especially not in front of me."

"You just don't understand, Fred," she responded, a hollowness in her words. "My students are always asking about my years at Hogwarts and about the War. I oblige them, because if I don't tell the story, it will be forgotten, or it will become warped by people who weren't there, who never lived it, and fill in the gaps as they see fit. And, then it would be like everyone we lost was in vain. But…" she paused, taking a deep, chest wrenching breath that drove a spike through Fred's heart, "... no matter how many times I tell those stories, they never get easier. The memories remain as vivid as the day I lived them, and the grief never wanes. They idolize me, like I'm some mythical hero-

The door moved from under Fred's forehead, and he met her eyes. They were bloodshot, and swollen from fallen tears and those still threatening to break loose, held only temporarily at bay.

"-but, what would they think if they saw me like this? If they realized that the brilliant, heroic professor they have put on this pedestal is nothing but a damaged, lamentful wreck."

"Afraid they might actually realize you are human?" he questioned, taking her hand despite her initial protest, silencing her with a finger against her lips.

**oOoOoOoOo**

Only one bottle of dittany remained on the shelf, and Hermione cursed under her breath. She was going to need more than one measly bottle if they were going on a mission to destroy all of Voldemort's Horcruxes. More annoying than that was the fact it was on a shelf just past the reach of her fingertips. Stretching up on her tiptoes, she huffed, the bottle still just out of her grasp. Just as she reached for her wand to _accio_ the damn thing, a hand reached over her head and swiped it off the shelf.

Pivoting, ready to verbally eviscerate the poor sod who chose today to cross her, she laid eyes on a smirking Fred Weasley.

"Need a bit of help, Granger?"

She did not have the patience to deal with him today. He must have seen her walk past the joke shop, despite trying to avoid him by walking down the opposite side of the street.

"Glad to see you put that height to some use for once," she quipped, swiping at the bottle as he jerked it away.

"Now, now-" he cocked an eyebrow, holding it well above her reach, "What's it worth to you?"

"I'm really not in the mood, Frederick, now if you would please-"

"Hermione…" He dropped his hand upon further inspection of her face. "...have you been crying?"

She turned away slightly, but he tilted it back with a finger under her chin. Her eyes were bloodshot, and dark crescents hung underneath in contrast to the puffy, red skin. The tears were already beginning to well again. She snatched the dittany out of his hand, and bolted for the register. His much longer stride meant he was even with him in seconds, and as she sat the bottle on the counter, he smacked a few coins down before she could retrieve her own out of her purse.

"Keep the change."

Hermione forced a smile. "Thanks."

"C'mon."

Seizing her by the upper arm, he lead her out of the shop and towards his own.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"A favor, for you." He rolled his eyes, no longer in the mood for jokes either apparently. "In case you haven't noticed, it's not exactly a good time to be wandering around Diagon Alley alone, especially when you happen to be the famous best friend of the notorious Harry Potter. So, why would an incredibly intelligent witch like yourself do something so incredibly stupid?"

"I don't need your protection, Fred," she hissed as they entered the side door of the joke shop.

Ushering her towards the stairs leading to their flat above the shop, she caught George's curious glance. Fred waved a dismissive hand at his brother, and George shrugged his shoulders, knowing he would get the whole story later. Pushing her through the door at the top of the stairs, Fred released her as she stumbled slightly into their kitchen.

"Spill it," he demanded, crossing his arms.

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, wanting to be infuriated with his actions, but she just couldn't muster the rage. Instead, she just slumped into the chair at their kitchen table, and pulled a copy of The Daily Prophet from her beaded handbag. Tossing it on the table, Fred moved towards it, taking it into his hands.

"Muggle Family Murdered," he read the headline on the front page. "Did you know them?"

"No," her voice waivered. "I just could not stop thinking that if they will kill a muggle family with no magic users, what would they do to the parents of… _a mudblood_."

"Don't call yourself that, 'Mione," Fred pleaded, taking a seat in the chair next to her, throwing the paper aside, and covering her hand with his. "If anyone could keep them safe, my money would be on you."

"That's just it," her voice hitched. "I know they'll be safe now...but…"

"Hermione, what did you do?" Fred's eyes went wide with concern.

The tears finally broke free as she declared, "I obliviated their memories, and I sent them away."

Her head fell onto her arms, and she collapsed on the table, sobs wracking her body. She waited for the backlash from Fred- an angry slew of protests and criticism. But, all she felt was a pair of strong arms pulling her against his chest, and the chair falling away beneath her. He was carrying her somewhere, but she did not have the nerve to argue. She had not told anyone she was going to send her parents away, and had been carrying the weight of her choice all on her own. Letting her head fall against his collarbone, she buried her face into his warm neck, clinging to it like a lifeline.

As he shifted her weight, she felt something soft beneath her. Pulling her head away from his neck, leaving a smear of tears on his freckled skin, she looked around to see Fred's bedroom. He had laid her on his unmade bed.

"Sorry for the mess," he apologized half heartedly. "Contrary to what I may lead people to believe, I don't exactly get a lot of visitors in my bedroom. Now, you lay here, and rest for a minute. I'm going back to put on a spot of tea. I won't be but a moment."

"Thanks, Fred," she whispered, pressing her face into his pillow.

She felt his hand graze gently across her curls, and then heard his footsteps moving away.

What was she doing here? Why was she letting him treat her like a broken doll? Why was she allowing herself to feel like one?

The scent of his pillow seemed familiar, but not like Fred. It smelled like fresh grass and new parchment… Hermione shot up, finally finding the rage she had been stifling. She was going to murder him

As he came sweeping into the bedroom carrying to steaming cups of tea, he found her swinging her legs over the bed, the classic glare of Hermione wrath etched into her face.

"Everything all right?" He raised an eyebrow in question.

"You are a prat, and a git, and a troll, Frederick Weasely!"

"Did I miss something?" He asked, clearly confused as he set the cups down on the side table.

"Love potion!?" She jumped to her feet, flinging the pillow at him. "I ought to hex you on principle alone!"

"Oh yeah… about that…" he murmured as he dodged the pillow, beater reflexes still quite strong. A nervous smile quickly crossed his face. "I can explain that-"

"You drag me off the street, taking complete advantage of my emotional state-"

"'Mione, listen-"

"You ply me with affection, knowing I clearly still have lingering feeling for you-"

"Well, that's good to know, but-"

"You get me to unload all my emotional baggage on you, knowing I would be vulnerable-"

"Granger! Would you shut up and listen?"

"You are absolutely incorrigible!"

She shoved him in the chest forcefully, and spun around to leave, but he reached over her shoulder, slamming the door before she could escape. Curse his height, she grumbled under her breath.

"It's not for you. It's for me," he admitted, dropping his head to speak behind her right ear.

"What?" she gasped, turning right into him, noses nearly touching.

"I put it on my pillow when I miss you," he swallowed. "And, lately, I miss you like hell." He moved his arm from the door to around her waist. "All that fear you have for the safety of your parents," he brushed her cheek with the knuckle of his free hand, "that's what keeps me up at night, frightened over what could happen to you."

He sighed, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head, then abruptly released her, falling back onto his bed. He propped himself onto his left arm to speak to her again, but Hermione was already crashing into him, covering his lips with hers, pressing him into the jumble of sheets with her body. He took her into his embrace, rolling her to her back, deepening their kiss by cradling her head and tangling his fingers in her curls.

"I knew you weren't mad at me anymore about leaving school," he breathed when their lips finally separated, the two panting for air as he drew her into his lap.

"I'm still furious," she corrected, whispering into his ear as she bit the lobe teasingly, leaning back to press their foreheads together. "But, I'm too emotionally drained to care anymore. I'm tired fighting, Fred. Everything I know is spiraling out of control, so I am making a choice- not out of fear or hate or desperation- but, just so I know that I still have choices, that I still have some control. So, I'm not letting you get away anymore."

Fred's eyes burned at her words, and he drew her against him possessively, trailing kisses down the length of her neck. She worked furiously at the buttons of his shirt, slipping out of her fingers a few times as she let a wave pass over her, breaking her concentration. Finally successful, she slid the sleeves over his dappled shoulders, and he let it fall behind him. Running her hands over his exposed chest, she swore she could feel electricity sparking underneath her palms.

Slipping his fingers underneath the hem of her blouse, he brushed his fingertips across the sensitive skin of her stomach, her abdominal muscles tensing at his teasing touch. A very un-Hermione like moan escaped before she could suppress it.

"You're lucky I'm such a gentleman, 'Mione," he smiled against her skin as her pressed a kiss to her temple. "If the boys back at Hogwarts knew that I was responsible for Hermione Granger making that noise, I'd be immortalized in a godlike statue."

"If you did, I'd just tell them I was the first girl you actually ever had in your bedroom," she retorted, as he slipped her blouse over her head.

"Touche," he laughed, running his fingers tortuously across the soft skin of her back, eliciting another moan, arching her back as he caught her by the shoulder blades. Grazing his thumbs over the straps of her bra, his expression changed to one of sweet concern, "Don't feel like you have to do this, love. You don't have anything to prove to me."

"This is something I have to prove to myself, Fred. I want this, and so do you. So, why are we fighting it?"

"Because, you love a good fight," he winked, and fell backwards, pulling her on top of him.

* * *

><p>A gentle, tentative knock at his bedroom door roused Fred from sleep, the darkness of the room giving away the lateness of the hour. Hermione was draped across his chest, his arms protectively wrapped around her exposed back. The tangle of sheets only just covered their lower halves.<p>

Another knock, slightly louder rattled the door again. Gently sliding out from under her embrace, he laid her against the mattress, placing her onto his pillow. Fred pulled on a pair plaid pajama bottoms, stepping gingerly towards the door. Cracking it just wide enough to fit his face, Fred got a face full of agitated twin.

"Can you be helped?" He grumbled.

"I've been waiting all bloody day," George crossed his arms.

"I'm a bit busy at the moment…" he tried closing the door again, but George shoved his arm through the gap.

"You're killing me, Freddie!" George exclaimed. "Well!?"

"We made up," Fred admitted matter-of-factly, his face then slipped into a devilish smile as he winked. "Twice."

"Liar," George snorted, not immune to his own twin's pranks. "There is no way you shagged Granger!"

"Keep your voice down- she's sleeping!" He punched George's shoulder."See for yourself if you don't believe me."

Fred widened the opening of the door just enough to peer inside, and George could just make out the form of a sleeping Hermione.

"Godric's ghost…" he let out a breathy, disbelieving laugh, pride lighting his face. Turning back to his brother who had closed the door back to keep out the light, he chuckled, "I have got to hear this story."

"Fred?" Hermione's sleep roughened voice called from the bed.

"Tomorrow," he whispered clapping his hand on his brother's shoulder. "Right now, I'm being beckoned. Never keep a girl waiting…"

George just rolled his eyes and Fred slipped through the door backwards, grinning at his brother like a nutter as the door clicked shut.

"Sorry, love," Fred apologized as he slipped back under the sheets.

"It's dark. What time is it?" She mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

"Late. Just lay back down," he replied, brushing down the exaggerated curls sticking up from the back of her head as he drew her back to his chest.

"I can't-"

"Where else do you plan on going?" he asked honestly. "If you think I'm letting you stay at your parents house by yourself, you're daft."

She sat on back onto her legs, giving him a glare.

"I will sleep better knowing you're safe," her glare softened, "and, so will you."

"I don't need you to protect me, Fred."

"Of course you don't," he agreed. "But, even a girl as fierce and bright as Hermione Granger has to sleep eventually. You're all by yourself now, and until this war is over, I'm going to sleep where you sleep, whether you like it or not. Otherwise, I'm not going to sleep at all, and I rather enjoy sleep. It would be awfully selfish of you to deprive me of that small comfort in these dark times, now wouldn't it? So what's it going to be Granger, my place or yours?"

"If I kiss you, will you please stop talking?"

"Not likely, but anything's possible-" was all he managed before their lips collided.

Slipping back under the sheets, she slung her arm over his chest, resting her head on the one he ccurled around her waist. And, for the first night in months, Fred Weasley and Hermione Granger had a sound night's sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**oOoOoOoOo**

"Do not mock me Fred," Hermione snapped, brushing past him and exiting the bedroom.

"I'm not mocking you!" he snapped, following behind. "You're being overly sensitive!"

"You're one to talk!" she bellowed, shoving her scarred arm in his face. "You can't even look at my arm without flying into a rage!"

"Well, I apologize that the idea of my wife writing in pain, inflicted with torture makes my blood boil."

"Why can't you just let it go, Fred!?"

"Because, I abandoned you once, and it took you years to forgive me!"

**oOoOoOoOo**

From the across the expanse of the sales floor he watched her move. Ginny was dragging her from one shelf to another, displaying the marvels her brothers had created. His breath hitched as they lingered at the love potion counter, a weight building in his stomach at the memory of lily scented perfume and fresh ink consuming him as he leaned over the concoction to test it.

Unlike the other girls, her eyes were not dancing with wild romantic notions, but with wonder and astonishment, inspecting the bottles with a quiet appreciation. It was a trait he had observed before in Muggle-borns- no matter how practiced they became in the skills of witchcraft and wizardry, they were always awed by true magic. Fred had never known a time when magic had not been an ever present part of his life, but Hermione still did things like writing by hand and packing her trunk herself. When he witnessed these simple acts, he found himself observing her with the same wide eyed adoration.

Making her way towards Harry, she hesitated, stepping back towards the Daydream Charms, taking one off the shelf to inspect it. A half smile tugged at her lips as she spun the box around, reading the directions, carrying it with her towards Harry.

"You know," she said, looking at Harry, "that really is extraordinary magic."

"For that," her head turned at his voice, a look of surprise across her face, "you can have one for free." Their eyes meeting as he studied them, reading them for any scant trace of lingering feeling, he noticed the indigo blemish blooming across her skin. "Hermione," his tone took on an unexpected protective tone, "what happened to you eye?"

"Your punching telescope," she replied ruefully.

He could never win with this girl.

"Oh blimey," he swallowed his embarrassment, despite the guilt strangling his throat. "I forgot about those. Here..."

His hand dove into the deep pocket of his magenta robe, searching for something rather unsuccessfully.

"...I have just the thing for that, but I must have left it in the work room. Come with me."

Crossing the bustling sales floor was almost dangerous. Gently dropping his hand to the small of her back, he dodged displays and customers, guiding her with a gentle press of the hand. Every touch of his hand against her back resulted in a flinch from Hermione, driving him to question if her reaction was that of nerves, or agitation.

"Just through here," he said, pulling back a heavy plum drape behind the counter, allowing her entrance first.

The work room was a disaster, but in the organized chaos of most creative spaces. Odds and ends were strewn about, beakers and vials of assorted colored liquids in varying amounts sat in racks on the workbench. A row of counter to ceiling apothecary drawers lined the back wall, labeled meticulously with their contents.

Fred spun about haphazardly, gathering up sketches and notes, looking under every piece of scrap, but he did not eye his prize.

Annoyed, he pulled his wand from his robe and announced, "Accio Bruise Remover", and the requested object came sailing towards his waiting hand. "This'll do the trick, I promise," he smiled, hesitating. "May I?"

A nervous expression crossed her face, as he pulled a stool from under the counter to sit closer within his reach.

"Be my guest." She shrugged, taking the proffered seat. Her eyes flicked to the tin as he twisted the cap, exposing the thick, yellow paste, asking, "Is… is it safe?"

"'Course it's safe," he replied. "George and I had to find a decent bruise remover- we're testing most of the products ourselves."

"I don't mean to seem ungrateful," she smiled a bit, "but, I would not put it past you if this was just the set up for another prank."

"Ouch! You wound me, Granger..." he scoffed, and part of him meant it. "You test your products on a couple of First Years, and suddenly no one trusts you."

Her insinuation did bother him that this was yet another Fred Weasley prank. It bothered him that she believed he would intentionally harm her. It bothered him that she thought him so incapable of empathy.

Collecting a blob of paste on his long index and middle finger, he gingerly daubed in soft circles following the ring of her orbital socket. It was such a contradiction for him, seeing her vulnerable. In his mind, after the last two years of constant threat and having to live on guard, he had become accustomed to the sense of strength that she exuded. From the very beginning of DA, she had taken the lead, acting as a role model for the rest of them- _take a stand, defy your fear, and soldier through_. In his mind, he had built up this image of invincibility and unshakable resolve. But, the bruised flesh under his gently moving fingertips told a different story. It was disconcerting being reminded of her fragility.

And, he knew that no matter how deep she tried to hide the damage inflicted on her- physical, mental, or in his particular case, emotional- it was still there. She still felt it. She felt everything. It was her nature to process and analyze and experience. Hermione was just gifted at forcing it elsewhere, to be dealt with when the time was right. But, self-sacrificing idiot that she was, she never took the time to do it. That would require taking a break from worrying about everyone else's problems for a minute to deal with her own. She was too busy carrying the world on her shoulders for that.

It was that protective quality in her manner, he had decided, that had sorted her into Gryffindor and not Ravenclaw. That quality was the only trait that superseded her intellect.

"Ssss, ow!" She hissed as he pressed against a particularly sensitive area, closing her eyes and seizing his free hand, squeezing it.

"Sorry," he whispered, retracting his hand from her eye instinctively. The wandering of his brain had made him clumsy with his pressure.

She just shook her head, opening her eyes slowly, replying, "It's fine, don't worry about it. Just finish up."

"Not just about that, or the telescope…" his voice trailed off. "...about last year."

Hermione stiffened at his words, pulling her hand back as if she had just realised they were touching. Her eyes darted towards the apothecary drawers as if they were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.

"You were just doing what you felt you had to do, Fred. And, from the success of this place, who could blame you?"

"I'm not regretful about leaving, just about how I left." Twisting the lid back in place, he tossed the tin on the workbench, looking for any distraction from her eyes. "About how I left things between us."

"I was not even aware we were an _us_, Fred. " Her voice was strained. "I mean, you did not even tell your own brother. Why would I have expected any special treatment?"

"You are such a shit liar, Hermione Granger." He quirked his mouth, biting back a laugh. "You really have to work on the delivery. The fiendfyre burning just behind your eyes has always been your tell."

He was walking dangerous ground, but he was feeling bold.

"What do you expect me to say, Fred?" She rolled her eyes. "Don't trouble yourself with it? All is forgiven?" There was a tension building in her tone. "That I didn't absolutely hate you? That you in no way broke my heart?"

"Yeah, any of that would be just fine, love." He conceded.

"Is this why you dragged me back here?" She pressed. "Was it guilt over the bruise, or guilt over being a git?"

"Both," he sighed, turning away from her. "But, I can only rectify bruise, so I figured I would fix what I could."

Couldn't she see he was trying? That he was laying it all out for her, making himself as vulnerable as she was right now? Why could she not just forgive him so they might have a chance at picking up where the left off?

"Thanks, Fred." She dropped from the seat on the stool to her feet, meaning to leave. "I appreciate the gesture."

He was not sure how much she really meant it. She reached for the daydream charm on the bench but Fred's hand covered hers, staying it.

"Wait a tic."

Slipping it out from underneath her grasp, he pushed it away. He moved toward a desk, obviously his by the green sweater with a large knitted _F_ draped over the back of the worn roller chair. Pulling open the bottom drawer, he withdrew a box that resembled the Daydream Charm, but this one had no illustrations on the box. Stepping back toward her, he presented it to her with both hands, like her was offering her the Sword of Godric Gryffindor.

"Take this one instead. You don't really seem like the pirate type."

"Alright," she nodded, clearly ready to escape. But, she hesitated just before drawing back the drape to pass through, and turned back to him. "These really are a remarkable bit of magic, Fred. You're really quite the accomplished wizard."

He never got the chance to say thank you before she disappeared.

* * *

><p>The dorm room was empty, having stayed behind while everyone else scampered off to dinner. She was having a staring contest with a box, and she was losing. Sipping the last of her tea, she eyed the undecorated box with skepticism. Tapping her fingers on the top of her desk, she bit her lip.<p>

So what if it had come from Fred? It didn't mean anything if she used it. She could still be angry with him, and accept a gift, right? One Daydream Charm wasn't going to fix the rift between them, or repair the break to her heart. She had spent the all day debating whether this was an apology, or a parting gift. She could not decide.

Growling in frustration, she grabbed the box, falling onto her stomach on her bed. She inspected the box over and over, finally caving and lifting the lid. Inside was an incantation written on a slip of parchment. Pulling her wand from her back pocket, Hermione took a deep, tentative breath, and recited the spell.

"Alright, Weasley," she sighed. "What is so special about this one?"

A wave of fatigue rolled over her, leaving her dazed, and she flopped languidly onto her back. The room dissolved, reshaping around her. When it reformed, she was standing under a vast inky stretch of night sky, smattered with more stars than she had ever seen. Grecian temples, terraces filled with laurel and olive trees, and flowering plants towered around her with water falls cascading down their steps, falling into an oblivion just past the edge of the world. Beneath, a blanket of never ending clouds laid out, cast in silver hues by the full moon above.

The glint of moonlight drew her eyes downward. Across her shoulders was an impressive shoulder plate, decorated with intricate filigree. Underneath was a flowing white dress, also very Grecian in style. She was starting to piece it together, and her hand went to her head knowingly. A helmet.

So, apparently she was Athena. Alright… well, he had been right about one thing: this was more intriguing than pirates.

Mount Olympus seemed quite and desolate, and no other gods seemed to be present. In a temple to her right, about three tiers up, she saw a single fire burning like a beacon, drawing her like a moth. Climbing the stairs to the temple, the pace of her heart quickened for a reason she could not explain, and nerves unsettled her stomach.

As she approached the temple, she observed the large caduceus carved into the entablature above the entrance, remembering it as the symbol of Hermes, messenger of the Gods. The inside of temple was luxurious, draped with dark purple fabrics and cushions and lit with golden sconces. Save the decor, it appeared empty, and Hermione paused in the center where the floor cushions were gathered, searching all the corners of the temple for any sign of life.

"Hello?"

At her words, a gust of air swept around her, and the flames extinguished enveloping the temple into the silvery darkness veiling the rest of Olympus. Two arms swept her up as the ground fell out beneath her. Her mind told her she should be screaming, but she felt extremely safe and at peace. Turning to face her abductor, a forceful, unexpected kiss took her by surprise. Drawing back, focusing her eyes, she smiled at the sight of Fred wearing a winged helmet.

Yes, of course he was Hermes. Trickster, inventor, not to mention, the inspiration from which her name was derived-what could have been more appropriate? And, she as Athena, goddess of wisdom, justice, and courage. He had certainly thought this out quite extensively. He could be exceedingly clever when he wanted to be.

Plunging through the layer of clouds, they raced towards the ground. She held her breath as they swooped up at the last minute, skirting the ground by mere feet. Despite her phobia of flying, she found this unexpectedly thrilling. Clinging tightly to Fred's neck, reveling in every rise and fall, every twist and turn, she could not remember feeling this free in a very long time.

Finally descending, he set her upon her feet, the sand of the beach where they had landed shifting beneath her sandals. Removing his helmet, Fred shook out in chin length red hair. He looked as if he had just walked out of one of her mythology books- a short, knee length white robe, complete with cape, a gilded helmet and sandals, both with wings. Strapped across his back were his scythe and his staff.

He looked rather incredibly, and despite her intensely logical brain telling her that Athena never took a lover, and that she had taken a virgin oath, and nothing about this was accurate in the least… she liked the idea of Hermes and Athena together. These two gods could not be more diametrically opposed, and yet, that is what made them so incredibly appealing as a pair. The similarities to her and Fred's personalities were not lost on her, and she applauded the use of symbolism. Clearly, he was trying to send her a message- he wanted to give this relationship another chance.

Emotion welled in her chest, and she practically knocked him over, throwing herself into his arms as he caught her around the waist. As they shared another passionate kiss, a slithering sound sent a jolt of panic into the pit of her stomach.

"Olympiansssss," a voice hissed. "Murderersssss of my sssssister."

Hermione's eyes darted toward the sound just as the tail of a giant serpent cut through the air, missing them thanks to her quick reaction time, pushing Fred to the ground.

"Remember not to look at her directly!" Hermione warned.

Scrambling back to their feet, unsteady in the sane, he pulled the adamantine scythe from his back. Weighing her options as she found herself without a weapon, the shriek of an owl rent the night. Turning towards the sound, she saw a gray owl carrying a shield and spear. Dropping it above her head, she caught one in each hand, and braced herself for the impending fight.

Another wicked snap of the Gorgon's tail cut at them, sending Fred diving towards Hermione, somersaulting back to his feet.

"We need a plan of attack," Fred cried as her pulled her behind a large rock for protection.

The serpents tail snapped the top half of the boulder, scattering rubble down upon their heads. Hermione covered their heads with the shield, and stone debris clattered against the metal.

"How are we supposed to kill something we can't look at?"

"With this!" Hermione pointed towards the shield mirroring them from above. "Use the reflection to keep an eye on her- you can distract her while I spear her from behind."

Quickly brushing his lips across hers, Fred bolted from behind the rock, using the shield to track the movement of the Gorgon. Once she had turned her back towards to rock, Hermione bolted in the opposite direction. Taking flight to escape each slash of the tail, Fred narrowly eluded the beast each time. Scrambling up the side of a small escarpment, Hermione climbed to reach a better vantage point, Nearing the top, a piece of rock broke loose, leaving Hermione hanging by one hand and dropping the spear atop the ledge.

"Athena!" Fred yelled as he saw her slip in his periphery, giving the Gorgon the split second delay to take him to the ground.

The shield skittered across the beach as Fred struggled, the breath stolen from his chest on impact. The Gorgon was slithering dangerously close to him, and without the shield, he was defenseless against her gaze. Mustering all her strength, Hermione swung her weight and managed to reach the ledge. Pulling herself up, she could she Fred crawling towards the shield which was further away than the Gorgon was from him.

The Gorgon was looming, arms outstretched towards Fred, digging her claws in his back just as Fred reached the shield. His painful scream split the air. Fueled by adrenaline she seized the spear, sending it flying toward the monster. Closing his eyes, Fred spun around just as the Gorgon fell against the shield, Hermione's spear impaled through the monster's head.

Breathless, she slid to a halt, falling to her knees. Shoving the carcass of the slain Gorgon to the side, she inspected Fred's wounds. They were already beginning to heal.

"That was close," she sighed, taking his hand in hers, pressing it against her chest.

"I never doubted your for a moment," he said, tracing the edge of her cheekbone and jaw. "I love you."

_Hermione?_

A disembodied voice averted her attention, and she looked around, but no one was there. Fred was drawing himself up, cradling the back of her head, pulling her in for another kiss…

HERMIONE!?

As Fred faded from her vision, Ginny came into focus, red tresses bouncing as she shook Hermione by the shoulders frantically

"Blimey, Hermione," Ginny sighed, slumping onto the bed in relief when Hermione came round. "You scared me half to death."

"Sorry, Ginny," she blushed, but she wasn't sure if it was from the last remnants of her daydream or the embarrassment of Ginny thinking something terrible had happened to her.

Picking up the box on the bed, Ginny exclaimed, "Did you take something?"

"No!" she replied, insistently shaking her head. "I was just testing out one of the Twins new Daydream Charms." She hated lying to Ginny, but what was she supposed to tell her? _Sorry about the scare- I was just dreaming of snogging your brother._ "Fred wanted a girl's impression on a new storyline."

"Some brother," she huffed. "Didn't bother to ask his own sister… typical. Well, you're going to miss dinner if you don't hurry up." She stood from the bed and indicated to her mouth. "Oh, and, you have a bit of…"

Hermione's hand jumped to her mouth, wiping away a bit of saliva.

"Perfect," Ginny declared tossing the box back onto the bed. "Now hurry, or you're going to be left fighting Ron for scraps."

"Be there in just a second," Hermione called after the already gone Ginny.

The inscription was still enclosed her her hand. Deciding she could keep the gift, and still be a little mad at Fred, she placed the slightly crinkled inscription back into the plain box from which it had come. She hid it under a few pieces of parchment in the drawer of her bedside table. After all, who knows what other adventures Hermes and Athena might have together?


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I apologize for the delay- I have been in two back to back plays, followed by Finals Week which takes a considerable amount of grading time. But, I'm now on our winter holiday break, so I'm hoping to get as many updates as possible in between the holidays. And, just so you know, I gave up time on my birthday to finish this for all of you. ;)

* * *

><p>oOoOoOoOo<p>

"Do you know how long it took George to convince me that you leaving on the Horcrux hunt wasn't revenge for leaving Hogwarts!"

"Yes, that was the plan from the word go, Fred. Eliminating Voldemort was just a convenient excuse to punish my boyfriend," she retorted condescendingly. "Do you know how conceited that sounds!? How nonsensical?"

"If it's nonsense, then why did you avoid me like Spattergroit victim?"

"Because, I thought you were a cowardly. Selfish. Moron," she paced her word pointedly.

"I felt stifled at Hogwarts, and you know that. George and I wanted to do something important to help the cause, and it was not going to happen at Hogwarts. I was a moron, and I see that now, but I was scared of dragging you down with me if I failed. I was just doing what I thought was right."

"All the signs were there, you were just too wrapped up in your own idiotic notions to see them."

"So, the shop is idiotic now?"

"No, but the idea that you didn't deserve me was!"

**oOoOoOoOo**

It had all started when Fred and George had stumbled upon a first year sobbing in the hallway, the words _I must not disobey _etched into his flesh. In those last few hours, Fred had realized that there were two things he was not meant to do in this life: finish his schooling at Hogwarts, and much to his aching heart, be with Hermione Granger. Leaving one would rectify the problem with the other, but the hardship was in leaving the latter behind.

In light of Umbridge's edicts, Hermione's company, along with serving to to disrupt Umbridge's plans in what ever capacity possible, had become Fred's only comfort. The DA had served as an amusing and educational diversion, but the more Fred thought about it, the more he had become convinced that there was important, necessary work to do, and it would not get done hiding behind the walls and protection spells of _Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry_.

George had agreed, as he always did when his brother made these grand plans. Fred had always been the idea man- George would have been lost without him.

"When are you planning on telling her?" George asked from over Fred's shoulder as he placed a few skiving snack box prototypes into his trunk. Fred simply pretended that he was too busy counting to have heard him. "She's going to be devastated."

Back safely turned to his brother, Fred closed his eyes and swallowed hard.

"To which particular _she_ are you referring, Georgie?" he spun around, plastering that signature smile across his face to mask his distress, reaching for a stack of monogrammed sweaters in a vain attempt at nonchalance. "There are going to be piles of miserable, weeping girls upon the departure of the Weasley twins."

"But, there's only one you're going to be equally miserable over…" George teased.

"You're mental," Fred laughed, albeit a bit nervously. "Enlighten me."

"Well, there's only one girl I know that packs her trunk by hand."

"What are you rambling about?" Fred raised his eyebrow at his brother.

George flashed him a knowing look, and darted his eyes toward Fred's outstretched hand that held the stack of sweaters, then looked to the trunk sitting before him on the bed.

"Nothing," George rolled his eyes. "Nothing at all...pay no attention to me."

Fred tossed the sweaters into his trunk and slammed the lid. Maybe, Fred was right- Hermione deserved the truth. He wasn't sure what they were to each other exactly. They had never bothered with any of that. Their relationship had just kind of happened to be one day, and was basically Fred planning secret rendezvous, and getting Hermione to break rules to meet him. Granted, getting the always proper, rule following teacher's pet, Hermione Granger to break the rules would have been a lot more satisfying if it was not because her flagrant disrespect towards Umbridge having led her to take none of her decrees seriously.

There was something between them, even it only ever happened in secret.

Sometimes, he would be in the Commons Room or the Dining Hall, and she would breeze by rousing the Gryffindor boys to begin speculating on how she snogged or what she looked like _under those robes_. He would lean over the back of the sofa or drop down between them on the bench just to whisper something like, "_Spectacular on both counts, gentlemen_," leaving with a salacious wink. Saying nothing more, just to keep them guessing on whether he was serious or not, he would glide away whistling.

Whatever she was to him, George was right- she at least deserved a proper goodbye. Brushing past his brother, Fred set off in search of Hermione.

There she was, exactly where he expected to find her- hunched over several books at a table in the Restricted Section of the library. As the last of the night's students checked out their books, Fred managed to slip past Madam Pince undetected, sneaking his way towards the Restricted Section.

Fred let out a low whistle, but Hermione was not even fazed. She was absolutely absorbed in her book, twirling her hair idly in her left hand. He adored that fierce look of concentration she always had when she was working. Even more though, he loved coming up with new ways to break that concentration, and the even more adorable face she always made, a mix of surprise and agitation. A flick of his wand sent the pages of her book fanning like a deck of cards, and Hermione harrumphed in indignation, smacking her palms down on the table, eyes flashing.

Fred just fluttered his fingers at her in greeting as he cocked his head to the left, wrapping his hands around the bars of the gate separating them. "Hope there wasn't anything terribly important on that page…"

"You are the bane of my existence," she closed the book, trying not to slam the cover.

"No, I'm not," he said in a sing-song, vexing way, leaning his forehead against the bars.

"Why are you bothering me?" She sighed, fighting a smile as she approached the gate.

"I'm bored," he frowned, stretching his fingers towards her as far as the bars would allow. "Want to cause trouble with me?"

"I can't," she replied in an exasperated sigh, linking her fingers into his through the bars. "In case it has escaped your extremely short attention, I have my OWLs tomorrow. Some of us actually plan on graduating, Frederick."

She didn't know it, but considering the circumstances, that was a low blow. He tried not to let the stab of guilt make it's way to his face.

"If you don't know the material by now, do you honestly think one session of cramming the night before is going to do it?" he scoffed, recovering from her comment. "And, by _you_, I was referring to literally anyone else besides you, because the idea of you not being overly prepared to ace these exams is preposterous."

"Flattery?" She raised a skeptical brow, "What do you really want?"

"Mr. Weasley!" Madam Pince's shrill voice resonated as she clamped a talon on his shoulder. "The library is closed, and you do not have permission to even be leering into the Restricted Section!" She yanked Fred backwards, shooing him out of the library. "And, you Miss Granger!" She pointed a claw her Hermione, " I expected much better from you than to be fraternizing in the library!"

"But, I-"

"I will consider this heavily the next time you come to me with a pass requesting the use of the Restricted Section!"

"Madam Pince, that's-"

"Not another word! Out, both of you!" She shrieked.

As Pince ushered them out the door, Hermione narrowed her eyes at Fred who was biting back a laugh. The door clanged shut behind them, and Hermione glared at Fred viciously, failing to see the humor he was finding in the situation.

"Well, it seems that you have found yourself conveniently free."

"I loathe you," she growled.

"No, you don't," he tapped her nose.

"Ugh…" was all she managed as Fred clasped her hand, dragging her down the hall.

Skirting around Umbridge's curfew rules had become quite the creative endeavor, made easier by his knowledge of all the secret passages. Her institution of the Inquisitorial Squad had posed an interesting challenge at first, but now he reveled in the opportunity to test out new products on the Slytherins patrolling the halls after hours.

"Quick, Fred! Pansy is coming!" Hermione whispered as loud as she could without being heard in the empty, quiet hall.

Fred pulled her into a niche, but the light in the hall still made them obviously visible.

"Fred, she can still-"

"Silencio, Granger." Fred placed his finger against her lips errantly, head down as he searched his pockets with his free hand. "Watch, and learn."

An explosion of pitch black enveloped the hall as Pansy came within distance. One hand against the wall, leading Hermione through the darkness, they made their escape, holding breaths to stifle laughs as Pansy screamed, shouting hexes and defensive spells at the nothing in the darkness.

Safely hidden within the passage behind Gregory the Smarmy, Hermione pushed Fred against the cool stonework wall, draping her arms around his neck, and finding his lips in the dim light of her illuminated wand.

"That was brilliant," she whispered against his lips, fingertips grazing temptingly against the exposed skin of his neck, dipping beneath the collar of his uniform. "I hate how much I love it when you pull stunts like that."

Merlin… how was he going to leave this girl behind.

"When did you start creating products with any practical use?" She smirked.

"You're hilarious," he deadpanned, finally discovering his missing breath, "but, George and I can't take credit for that one. I found that in a catalog that dad left lying around the house. We've taken to expanding our repertoire of tricks in light of the Umbridge regime."

"Well, it's the only truly useful product you've brought here yet- you should think about bringing some to sell to the DA as a defensive protection."

"Actually, George and I have been thinking about expanding…" Fred's tongue felt parched, and there was a sudden needling point of pain behind his left eye.

Hermione looked perplexed for a second.

"If Deatheaters are growing in numbers, there are going to be more than just Hogwarts students who will need protection."

There- now he had a start. But, he couldn't break the news to her in a moldering tunnel inside the walls of Hogwarts.

"C'mon along, Granger," he snatched her hand and took of jogging down the length of the dim passage, his voice rebounding on the walls enclosing them. "There are adventures to be had."

**oOoOoOoOo**

"... and, just over there, nearly gone for the year, is Gemini."

Hermione's graceful fingers seemed to tap the stars as she pointed them out against the scattered, jumbled mess of twinkling infinity. Underneath the large oak, Fred sat nestled within the gnarled, ancient roots, his back against the trunk and Hermione's head resting in his lap, absently running anxious finger through her unruly hair.

"A personal favorite," Fred smiled. "Where is your sign?"

"You can't see Virgo until the middle of the summer," she responded matter-of-factly, "but, there are the other spring signs." She traced along the ecliptic to Aries, Pisces, and the soon to be more visible Cancer.

Fred was only half-heartedly paying attention to her. He had been stalling for almost two hours, and he knew Hermione wouldn't stay out much longer- not with her OWLs in the morning. He was lucky to have stolen her away from this long.

"I bet you're looking forward to being done with these wretched examinations," he stated, hoping it did not seem to forced or non-sequitor. "Even you have to be tired of all the preparation this year."

"Actually, this is the first year I'm actually looking forward to our summer holiday. Who knew it would be Delores Umbridge that finally destroyed the love I have for school?"

"She's a miserable hag, but not everything that has happened this year has been dreadful," he smiled, poking her in the sensitive spot he knew lingered just along her flanks.

Flinching as the pokes descended into a full on tickle, Hermione shifted, giggling, trying to escape his hold to no avail. Fred seized her by the waist, rolling her underneath him, pinning her to the ground.

"Fine, I concede," she admitted, breathless and tucking one of his long copper strands behind his ear. "There have been a few more pleasurable elements of this school year."

"You really know how to suck the romance out a moment, don't you?" Fred dropped his forehead to her still heaving chest.

"Someone has to keep you humble," she retorted. "If I rolled over as easily as your other conquests, you would have been bored in a week. Admit it, the challenge is half the appeal." She lifted his head by the chin. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be toying with the other Gryffindors who have been speculating about my snogging ability."

Her expression said annoyed, by her eyes said otherwise.

"Heard about that, did you?"

"It's a small dormitory," she smirked and narrowed her eyes. "But, you're right in some aspect I suppose. Despite everything that's happened this year," she sighed in kind of a frustrated, yet slightly wistful way, "I think this has been by best year at Hogwarts. It has tested in me in ways beyond any OWL. I am so proud of DA, and everyone involved-

"Well, you should be. If it wasn't for you there wouldn't be Dumbledore's Army."

"That's not true. It's all Harry- he really is a genius when it comes to defensive spells," she laughed, as if another thought had quickly crossed her mind, redirecting her train of thought. "Come to think of it, Harry is probably the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher that Hogwarts has ever had... besides Lupin, of course."

"That's true," he laughed in agreement. "He is an excellent teacher, but Harry is just the words on the page. You're the glue that holds the book together. People trust you, and whether or not they show it, they respect you. Do you honestly think any of us would be there if Hermione Granger had not told us to do it?

"I think you are grossly over exaggerating my appeal, Fred."

"All the members of Dumbleore's Army, including Harry, look to you, Hermione. They would probably follow you anywhere…" he hesitated. "I know I would."

Stupid, stupid words. Where were they coming from? He lifted up from their prone position, and sat back against the tree. Fred suddenly found his hands very interesting. Hermione reached out, taking his hand in her two smaller ones, sandwiching his warm hand with her palms. Touching her was like a refreshment- soft skin, always cool to the touch. Another contrast to him, yet one more complement to each other. Yet, one more reason compelling him to stay.

He had to say it now, or he was never going to pluck up the courage.

"Hermione…" he began, hoping the words would seamlessly follow, eventually finding their way into his mouth. "This year has been very educational, and it has taught me much about myself… about what is worth fighting for, and when to accept your limitations… about becoming more than the Jester of Gryffindor." He was rambling, but her hands stayed clasped around his, her eyes firmly locked as she listened intently. "I know the idea of you and me… we don't make sense-"

Cutting him off unexpectedly, Hermione's lips covered his, killing the words at the back of his throat, unable to fight the urge to take her in his arms.

"I love you too, Fred," she whispered in a knowing tone as if she had anticipated his words, taking his face in her hands, and drawing their foreheads together.

The words struck him so suddenly it took his breath away. He had imagined this scenario a hundred times over- the way her mouth formed the words, the sparkle of her earthy brown eyes in the moonlight—but now, in this moment, he was crushed under the weight of his purpose here tonight. He had waited so long to elicit those very words from her mouth, and yet he was only hearing them on the night he intended to say goodbye.

"I… I don't deserve you," was all he could weakly muster.

"I know."

She laughed. Fred didn't.

Hermione accepted his words as just a rare, honest moment from the real Fred no one else but George ever got to see, never realizing that it was meant as an admission of painful truth. He didn't feel worthy of her. Hermione wasn't called the _brightest witch of her age_ without reason. Whatever the fates had in store for her was bound to be grand and momentous, and definitely not a future that was meant to be shared with a boy whose greatest ambition was to own the Wizarding World's most famous joke shop.

"I feel like the both of us are always on stage," she spoke again, dropping her forehead to rest against the warmth of his long neck, resting her cheek against his firm shoulder. "Always keeping up the appearance of the person we are expected to be… the bookworm and the prankster. As if I could never find the slightest bit of humor in anything, or that you could never be responsible, or serious at all…no one imagines that we could have dimensions. We're just these two misfit souls, searching for the place we fit, and luckily we found it in the eyes that see us for who we really are. You have know idea the amount of comfort I have found that."

_Not tonight, please_, he begged, closing his eyes and clenching his jaw. This was supposed to his farewell- he was leaving tomorrow, and was going out a legend. _Godric, why tonight?_

"Oh! Fred, look!" Hermione's eyes darted to the space just behind his head, a look of amazement lighting her face.

Turning his head swiftly, Fred watched a cascade of blue streaking across the star smattered sky. Why was the most perfectly romantic night of his life unfolding as he was trying to let go of the girl of his dreams. The strength went out of him. He could not do it. Perhaps it was a cowards way out, but he just could not break her heart-not now, not as stars fell.

Instead, Fred fell back on the one gift he found always helped him out of these types of situations: the patented Fred Weasley charm.

"Well," he held the word long, as if manifesting shooting stars were just another one of his many gifts, and really, it was nothing, "I just figured, for a girl who is constantly reaching for the stars, might be nice if they came to her for a change."

The intensity of her eye roll concerned him that she might actually dislodge one from it's socket.

"You are unbelievable," she fell backwards against his chest, and he crossed his arms over waist, pulling her tight against him.

They stayed that way for a good long while, even after the stars had stopped falling to earth, and had moved on to other still suspended constellations.

**oOoOoOoOo**

It was well after midnight when they managed to sneak back into Gryffindor Tower, and Hermione hoped she would not regret this after hours rendezvous in the morning as she was yawning through her exam. As they're hands parted, Hermione was reluctant to let go, but she knew the evening had to end at some point. There would always be more secret rendevous, and she had this summer to look forward too- more adventures at the Burrow, and maybe a few trips through London.

There was a sadness in his blue eyes as they parted from their goodnight kiss, but Hermione tried not to dwell on it. It was probably just disappointment she would not stay out longer. Squeezing her hand, and tracing her jawline with the other, Fred took a deep breath and pressed a long kiss to temple just before whispering:

"Goodnight, Granger. Thanks for the wonderful adventure."

Turning abruptly, Fred departed for his dorm, and Hermione did the same- she was fighting a smile, he was fighting tears.

"You know, Fred," she called, lingering on the stairs before ascending to the girls dorm, "maybe not everybody can see what makes _us_ work, but I can." Fred slowly turned to acknowledge her. "You read me as thoroughly as I read one of my books, and you were absolutely right about tonight. If it wasn't for you dragging me off against my better judgment, I would have stayed up half the night cramming my head full of facts I'm fully aware I already know. But, you have this gift of being able to know what I really need, and this was what I really needed- a relaxing evening to clear my head of anxiety and distractions before my exam tomorrow."

"Just one of my many gifts," he shrugged, mostly out of a need to expel some nervous energy before the guilt tangled his stomach up in knots.

"I just want you to know," her eyes took on a deepness as they met his, "I might be constantly reaching for stars, but you are what grounds me, and you are more than enough reason to keep me here on Earth."

She turned and dashed up the spiraling stairs. To Hermione, this would be the first night she ever truly felt brave. To Fred, this would forever be the memory of goodbye.

**oOoOoOoOo**

The realization was gnawing at her as she tried to focus on the real problem at hand. She kept forcing away the visual of the Twins flying off, parchment and sparks cascading on the courtyard as Fred flew out of her life. But, she was failing. She had been forced to focus on Harry when she saw him collapse to the cobblestones, but her mind was racing between the task at hand- getting into Umbridge's office- and, how positively incensed she was at Fred Weasley.

And, as the green fire erupted in Umbridge's fireplace, the anger finally boiled over when Harry tried to fight against her help in assisting at the Ministry.

The image of a Cleansweep Five and it's ginger haired rider getting smaller and smaller tightened her throat.

"When are you going to get it through your head!?" she exclaimed a little more harshly than she intended, emotions erupting unintentionally, unbalanced by her distress. But, no matter how enraged or devastated she was about Fred, she would never abandon someone she loved. "We are in this together!"


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thanks to the few who have taken the time to review, follow, or favorite. I appreciate it, and welcome others to do the same please. At this point, I'm really open to suggestions as I am worried I will run out of my own ideas. Right now, I'm kind of looking for prompts or ideas to focus on Hermione and Fred's relationship while they were at Hogwarts. I know I will write something about them during DA, but I'm open to adventures or sneaking around they might be doing in between classes and DA meetings. Any ideas? Feel free to message me, or post in reviews. And, again, thanks for any reviews, follows, or favorites.**

**oOoOoOoOo**

Unclenching her fists, skin crawling with static and goosebumps, she let her anger escape in a long exhale. Shaking her head, refusing to fuel this argument, this infernal, never ending, inevitable argument for yet another round, she just dropped her shoulders and closed her eyes.

"I can't do this anymore, Fred. I don't have the strength."

Abruptly turning to the door, she shot out the bedroom door with a dismissive hand. Fred, of course, followed. While Hermione's usual response to conflict between them was to put space between them, escape to her library- the only other room in the house besides the bathrooms with a lock on the door. In there, she would sit in silence, ruminating on the malicious words they had spit at each other, and the conversation that had spiraled out of control. In her sanctuary, she would calm her nerves and allow her temper to subside. Only then could she be calm enough to apologize, or accept his in return. Then it could be like nothing had happened, and her anger would die away, contained within the bookcases.

Fred, on the other hand was never keen on letting her escape, insisting they work it out now, demanding they talk it out in the moment. So, it was no surprise to her when Fred bolted after her, chasing her down the hall as she descended the stairs.

"I'm sorry. Come back-"

"Enough Fred, please," she begged, fleeing towards the solitude that lay just behind the door.

"Bloody hell, woman! I swear," Fred erupted, brandishing his wand, "if you walk through that door, I will blow it off it's sodding hinges!"

Jumping sharply, Hermione faced him with a look of horror, nostrils flaring. He was flexing his fist around his wand menacingly, but she could see the regret already looming in his eyes. Regardless, he was holding onto his resolve.

"Fine then," she pursed her lips, flicking her hair over her shoulder. "Accio trainers."

The air-popping snap was ringing in his ears before his eyes registered she was gone.

"Damnit," he growled.

Falling into the closest chair at the kitchen table- the same table she had collapsed upon the day he had found her teary-eyed, and wandering around Diagon Alley alone- he let his head do the same. His wand rolled from his fingers, and he curled his arms under his head.

Head of her class, yet she would never learn.

There was no doubt in his heart or mind that he wholly loved Hermione- she was his other half, his perfect complement. But, for all the love her held for her, some part of him hated everything that she was in juxtaposition to him. Nothing made him more insane with rage then when the worst parts of her clashed against the worst parts of him.

More than any other woman he had encountered, she was by far the most proud, stubborn, and emotional. In a word, simply impossible. Impossible to hold on to, impossible to fully understand, impossible not to fall desperately in love with.

**oOoOoOoOo**

The bell above the Zonko's shop door ring-a-linged, followed by the laughing of Lee Jordan. Fred and George turned from perusing the merchandise on a shelf with a hand decorated, brightly colored sign announcing "_New Products_!".

"Boys, you aren't gonna believe this!" Lee announced, still chuckling, sending his tightly braided locks bouncing as he placed his hands on the twin's backs, guiding them towards the far corner of the store.

"Well, out with it, Lee! The suspense is killing us!" George begged.

Lee looked both directions, leaning in closer towards his friends.

George and Fred glanced at each other smirking mischievously, Fred commenting, "This is bound to be good."

"It's better than good!" Lee's voice barely above a whisper. "Word in the halls is someone is forming a secret club to teach each other some real defense against the dark arts."

"Wicked." The twins replied in perfect unison, grins splitting their faces from ear to ear.

"Who's the mastermind behind this little coup d'etat?" George asked.

"That's the unbelievable part," Lee raised his eyebrows. "... Hermione Granger."

"Bollocks, mate!" Fred rolled his eyes, brushing off Lee's hand, breaking their circle of intrigue. "Thanks for getting my hopes up for nothing."

"I'm dead serious, Fred!" Lee argued. "In fact, there's a meeting at the Hog's Head in about ten minutes to organize and recruit, and I just saw Granger, Potter, and your brother heading that direction."

"Really!?" Fred raised an eyebrow.

"See for yourself if you don't believe me," Lee threw his head in the direction of the door.

"Well, Forge, I'd reckon we better check this out," George grinned.

"Indeed, Gred," Fred nodded in agreement, "If Hermione Granger's gone rogue, I believe we're required to attend. As the honorary mischief makers of Hogwarts hallowed halls, how would it look if we didn't?"

"Reputation in tatters, that's how. Dishonor and shame." George replied shaking his head sadly. "Not to mention, if Ron's involved, he's bound to cock it all up."

"Then, it's out of our hands," Fred sighed dramatically. "We have a responsibility to lead these troublemakers into full on rebellion."

The trio was the last to enter the Hog's Head, impeded by a large assembly of students from all the houses, sans Slytherin. And, true to his word, at the front of the crowd next to the counter, looking completely out her element, stood an wide-eyed and exasperated Hermione Granger, just as Lee had promised.

Unsure of what was coming over him, Fred felt a need to help her. Pushing through the aimless crowd, Fred dropped his bag down on the filthy counter, counted the bobbing heads, and demanded twenty-five butterbeers. The barman looked as Fred was bothering him, and grumbled as he pulled handfuls of dusty butterbeers out from underneath the counter.

"Cheers," he exclaimed as he began dispersing the neglected bottles throughout the crowd with help of his brother and Lee. "Cough up, everyone. I haven't got enough gold for all of these."

Biting her lip, Hermione cast him a look of appreciation and relief. Fred merely half smiled, nodding in acknowledgement as coins began to collect in his hands. But, Harry came charging at her, breaking the moment between them, and her attention shifted towards an obviously agitated Harry Potter. Fred took it upon himself to usher the others into the back room.

When all the chairs had been claimed, leaving some to stand in the back, Hermione and Harry exchanged looks, ending with an eye roll, and her taking the floor.

"Er…" she hesitated, nerves clearly paralyzing her.

The twins and Lee had taken seats near the front, and just to left of Hermione, Harry, and Ron. It's was all Fred could do to not burst out laughing at her discomfort- not out of malice, but out of the amusement he found in the fact that there was something Hermione Granger was not particularly adept at after all.

"Well, you all know why we're here… Harry had the idea-" she paused when Harry had thrown her a sharp look, "I mean, I had the idea that it might be good for people who wanted to study Defense Against the Dark Arts- and, I mean really study it, you know, not the rubbish that Umbridge is doing… because, nobody could call that Defense Against the Dark Arts!" She set her shoulders back, and lifted her head proudly, adding, "So, I thought we might take matters into our own hands."

In that moment, Fred observed something come over Hermione, a shift in her stature as if she was standing taller, stronger, more confident.

"You want to pass your Defense Against the Dark Arts OWL too though, I bet?" Michael Corner remarked.

"Of course I do," she replied as if that was beyond the obvious. "But, I want more than that. I want to be properly trained in Defense because…"

The others seemed to be hanging on her next words as if they were daring her to say it.

"...because..."

_Say it, Granger. _He thought, willing her as the tension mounted, his skin prickling. As if he desperately needed her to say it, to prove her new found boldness to him. _Say it…_

"...because...Lord Voldemort's back."

"Bloody hell," he sighed in awe, so quietly no one but his twin heard him, and George shot him a surprised glance.

Who was this girl, and what had she done with always proper, rule following, goody-two-shoes Granger? Something stirred inside him, and… then he noticed the strange feeling building in the base of his stomach. That, that was worrisome.

The crowd was getting restless, making demands of Harry and asking pointed questions, but Fred listened only halfheartedly. He was too focused on the unease building as he watched Hermione passionately defending Harry against those criticizing his motives and abilities.

"No," Harry pleaded, "no, okay, I know I did bits of it without help, but the point I'm trying to make is…"

"Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?" Zacharias Smith accused.

"Here's an idea-"

The voice of his baby brother seemed to draw Fred's attention back to the conversation at hand.

"-why don't you shut your mouth?"

A clearly embarrassed Zacharias Smith recoiled, and retorted, "Well, we've all turned up to learn from him, and now he's telling us he can't really do any of it!"

The tension in the room and the unease building inside him spilled over, and before he could stop himself, Fred snarled, "That's not what he said."

"Would you like us to clean your ears out for you?" asked George coming to his brother's aid, pulling out a lethal looking instrument from his Zonko's bag.

"Or, any part of your body, really, we're not fussy where we stick this," Fred threatened.

Feeling more like himself, Fred felt his nerves settle, but only momentarily until Hermione flashed him another glance. Her eyes expressed annoyance, but she was clearly biting back a smile.

Godric, he liked _this_ Hermione.

_Liked…_Hermione.

Merlin...

It was preposterous.

It was dangerous.

It was bloody impossible.

Fred Weasley was crushing on Hermione Granger.

"I think everyone should write thier name down, just so we know who was here. But, I also think we should not go shouting about what we are doing. So, if you sign, you are agreeing not to tell Umbridge- or anybody else- what we're up too."

Fred Weasley's name was the first to be hastily and proudly scrawled across the paper.


End file.
